


You've Got Leaves in Your Hair

by Gampyre



Series: Fictober 2020 [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Flufftober, Getting Together, M/M, Watford Eighth Year, autumn vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gampyre/pseuds/Gampyre
Summary: For Flufftober 2020 days 1 and 2: Pile of leaves; first day of cool weatherOr: A pile of leaves plays matchmaker to two idiots in love
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Fictober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949773
Comments: 31
Kudos: 162





	You've Got Leaves in Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober prompts  
> [here](https://subpar-selkie.tumblr.com/post/628080856195547136/flufftober-prompts)

_Baz_

Peals of laughter float through the open window and interrupt my mental review of this week’s Greek vocabulary list. Snow left the window open again. I heave a sigh and stand up, crossing the room to shut it. I shiver a little—the air is starting to cool down as autumn arrives, and today is chillier than it has been all month.

I pause with my hand on the window frame and look out onto the lawn. Simon Snow and his posse—Bunce and Wellbelove—have made a small mountain out of the fallen leaves covering the grounds. Snow and Wellbelove are taking turns jumping into the leaves, and Bunce is spelling the pile back up each time they squash it down.

Snow is laughing, bright-eyed and ruddy-cheeked. He’s beaming at Bunce as if she hung the moon. Who would have thought a mess of filthy leaf litter would be enough to make Snow smile like that. 

_What I wouldn’t give for him to look at_ me _that way._

I almost wish I could join them in their little game. _Almost_. I never played in the leaves much as a child, but my siblings adore it. Sometimes when I visit them in the autumn, I’ll pile up leaves for them to jump into. It makes them laugh. They frolic around pretending to be superheroes, pretending to be invincible. Pretending to cast _**Float like a butterfly**_ before launching themselves off the porch and into the air. (Afterwards, Daphne and I spend hours picking twigs and leaf bits out of their hair and clothes.)

I consider joining Snow and his friends on the lawn. To see his smile up close, to pretend it’s for me. He’s like the sun—drawing me in, trapping me in his orbit, pulling me closer and closer until I burn.

I pack up my books and make my way down the stairs under the pretense of going to the library to study, all so I have an excuse to walk past the golden trio on my way. Just one more nail in the coffin of my eternally pathetic existence. 

I hurry down the stairs, but I take my time once I’m outside, walking slower than usual as I cross the lawn (it gives me more time to watch him). 

Snow picks leaves off of the back of Wellbelove’s jumper and brushes the dirt away, his hand lingering on her shoulder, and she laughs at something he says. My gut twists with a familiar sort of jealousy. They may not be dating anymore, but she's still his golden destiny. 

Bunce waves at me from behind them.

“Hello, Basil!” Agatha calls, turning to look at me.

“Bunce, Wellbelove.” I acknowledge them as I approach their little group. “Snow.”

Snow’s head snaps up, and the smile drops from his face the moment he lays eyes on me. 

“What are you doing?” he growls.

“I’m going to the library,” I tell him, letting my upper lip curl ever so slightly. “To study.”

He narrows his eyes at me. My feet carry me closer and closer to him. The leaf pile is right next to the path, right in my way. A few more steps, and he’ll be close enough to touch.

“No you’re not,” he states. “You never study in the library at this hour. Besides, it’s almost dinner time.”

“Then I suppose I must be going to dinner.” I lift my chin and look down my nose at him. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business where I go, anyway.”

He glares at me as I walk past, and his eyes are so blue. It distracts me enough that he catches me off guard when he seizes my elbow. 

“What are you plotting, Baz?” He growls, as he yanks me off the path.

The oaf somehow tangles his feet up in mine, and I’m falling, hurtling toward the pile of arboreal detritus, grasping at thin air and finding nothing to slow my descent.

Snow is still attached to me like a barnacle by the sleeve of my jumper, so he goes down right along with me. 

We land in the pile with a soft crunch. Me on my back, him on his stomach beside me.

Choking on a mouthful of leaves, I flounder and try to sit up. I’ve sunk far enough into the pile that each time I cough and spit, I only get _more_ leaves in my mouth. Everything tastes and smells like dirt. My hands scrabble for purchase, but I only sink deeper. _Damn you Bunce,_ I mentally curse, _for spelling this pile so abominably tall._

The sliver of daylight above me disappears, replaced by a sea of dead, dry, boring brown.

I flail. I kick. I writhe.

After an eternity, my elbow connects with solid ground, and I use the leverage to push myself to my feet.

“Snow!” I bellow. I hear a rustle behind me and turn to see him scrambling away, shuffling on all fours through the leaves. “I’m going to kill you. I swear to Merlin, I’m going to kill you.”

I wade through the leaves toward him. He trips and lands face-first in the pile, then scrabbles to get back up on all fours.

“I’m going to carve you like a fucking _pumpkin_ ,” I say, advancing on him. “I’m going to—”

I stop mid-sentence, because he’s laughing. _Laughing_. He’s turned over and is lying on his back, looking up at me and fucking _giggling_. 

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“You’ve—Baz, you—You’ve got leaves. In your hair.”

“What?” My hands fly to my head, and there I feel them. Leaves. Fucking, filthy, useless, decomposing, dirty leaves.

I scowl at Snow and attempt to comb the mess out of my hair. He hauls himself to his feet and walks over to me, shoulders still shaking with mirth. He glances to his left and I follow his gaze—Bunce and Wellbelove are halfway across the lawn already, headed to the Cloisters, leaving Snow and I alone. Likely trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of another one of our fights.

“Here,” Snow says, reaching one hand toward my face. “You’ve missed some.”

His fingers graze my scalp as he removes the wayward piece of crispy foliage. I freeze, my breath catching when his hand comes back for another leaf. And then another.

Before I know it, he’s got both hands in my hair, fingers combing through it. He’s carefully untangling knots, pulling the strands of hair free of the meticulously arranged position I gelled them into this morning. 

It takes everything I’ve got not to sigh in pleasure. I never dreamed Snow was capable of touching anything this gently. I never dreamed Snow would touch _me_ in any way that wasn’t violent.

No one has ever touched me this tenderly before.

I almost don’t even care that he’s completely ruining my hair.

I grab his wrists and he stills, eyes widening slightly.

“Stop.” I tell him. “There’s no way I have that many twigs in my hair.”

His cheeks are flushed, though I can’t tell if it’s from the wind or the cold or from something else entirely. I’m fairly certain I’m blushing. I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Er—” he says, eloquent as always. “There’s tiny pieces. You know. Just checking to be sure.”

“Well, you can stop messing up my hair now.”

I release his wrists and his arms fall to his side.

“I wasn’t messing it up,” he mutters.

“You were, too,” I say. “It was slicked back, and now it’s not.” I hold up an errant strand of hair. “It’s all in my face now. No thanks to you.”

He shrugs and turns away, mumbling something that sounds a lot like, “It looks better this way.”

“What?”

He doesn’t respond, just starts walking toward the dining hall. 

“What did you say?” I repeat, stomping through the leaves to catch up with him. I grab his forearm and pull on it until he stops and turns to face me. “Tell me what you said.” 

He shrugs. His blue eyes meet mine, his chin jutting out defiantly. Ready for a fight.

“I said, it looks better like this.” He says it in the same voice he uses when he’s accusing me of plotting.

I frown at him. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No, it was an insult. To the way you usually do your hair.” This time his voice wavers a little. 

I stare at him, my eyes searching his face. He takes a step back, toward the leaves. I grip his forearm a little tighter. He flushes a deeper shade of pink.

_No._

_It’s not possible._

_Could he—?_

Snow swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His eyes drop to my lips.

I step closer, releasing his arm.

I hear his heart speed up, pulse racing beneath his skin. His eyelids flutter the tiniest bit.

_Oh._

_How did I miss this?_

When his tongue darts out to lick his lips, my body makes my decision for me. I grasp Snow by the shoulders and shove him, hard. He falls backward into the pile of leaves. He stares up at me, mouth hanging open, eyes wide in surprise. His eyebrows knit together in the center of his forehead in confusion.

Then I dive in after him.

My knees land on either side of his hips. My hands hit the ground on either side of his head. And my lips press roughly against his.

The thing is, jumping into leaves _sounds_ like fun. The leaves look like they would provide a soft place to land. They don’t. They’re prickly and rough, and I’ve got twigs stabbing every inch of exposed skin, and the ground is hard and cold beneath my hands. But Simon’s mouth is soft and warm. His hands are hot against my skin when he takes me by the back of the neck and deepens the kiss.

His arms come up to wrap around my waist. I lose my balance, my whole body crashing into him.

He grunts at the sudden weight, and I pull my head back. He’s looking up at me, his plain blue eyes filled with something other than suspicion or anger, for once.

Then, he smiles at me. It’s one of his brightest smiles, and I feel warmth bubble up inside me and escape my mouth in a laugh. He laughs too, an easy, joyful sound. I roll off of him, and we lay on our backs, side by side, bodies shaking as we laugh together.

I see it now. The leaves around us aren’t brown after all. They’re all shades of red and gold and yellow. The colour of fire. If this is what it means to end in flames, I don’t know why I resisted it for so long. I thought kissing the sun would burn me. But all I feel is a pleasant warmth, smooth like honey, flowing through my veins.

It feels like coming home.

Simon’s fingers slide against my wrist, and then he takes my hand. I squeeze it back gently.

“Baz?” he says, softly.

I turn my head to look at him. “What, Snow?”

He reaches toward me with his free hand.

“You’ve still got leaves in your hair.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr!  
> [Gampyre on Tumblr](https://gampyre.tumblr.com/)


End file.
